Dance, dance
by lordfartquad
Summary: Klaus hosts a party at the compound to celebrate the momentary achievement of peace the Quarter experiences after Dahlia's defeat in 3x02. Klamille oneshot, the story of their first kiss, or at least how I'd like it to go


She stood back from the mirror and examined herself, making sure she didn't need any finishing touches. One final coat of mascara, she decided. Once applied, she looked again, fluffed her hair, and left the bathroom.

All that was left to do now was to put on her shoes and wait for Davina to arrive. And maybe have another beer before she left. She felt like she would need it.

After all the chaos they'd experienced recently, after the multiple fights over baby Hope, after the warring of the factions, after Kieran's death, the Quarter had finally reached some semblance of peace. At least, things were as peaceful as they had been since she'd come here.

Klaus wanted to take advantage of this. After all, who knew how long this would last. It seemed as if the entire Quarter was breathing a sigh of relief after Dahlia had been defeated. She had really been the one most recently pitting everyone against each other, inciting emergency after emergency, killing indiscriminately and causing tensions to run high between the wolves, the witches, and the vampires. And now that she was dead, Klaus felt they should celebrate this moment of triumph and peace, no matter how fleeting it might be. As always he was sure something catastrophic was sure to be around the corner, but for now things were quiet. He wanted to mark the occasion.

While Cami was downing another beer, hoping it would instill courage in her, he was getting dressed, combing his hair. He had traded his normal wardrobe of a henley shirt and dark jeans for an actual button down shirt, jacket, and slim fitting slacks. Klaus tilted his head to the side so he could spray cologne against his pulse point.

He heard a giggle from behind him and turned to find Rebekah standing in the doorway of his bedroom, a hand covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laugh. His jaw set in anger. "What, pray tell, is so amusing, sister?"

"My god, Nik. You look just like Elijah." Her laughter, which had died slightly, burst forth from her even louder than before and she leaned over, practically slapping her knee.

He waited for her to finish. "Go on, have a good laugh," he said as she inhaled sharply, wiping away a tear from her eye. She was breathing heavily from laughing so hard, struggling to get a breath in her. Despite his best efforts to prevent it, he saw in the mirror that his cheeks had gone red with embarrassment.

After she'd calmed down a bit, she folded her arms over her chest. "Who are you trying to impress?" she asked, still smiling broadly at him.

"I strive to impress no one but myself, Rebekah. Besides, dressing a certain way has little influence on others' impressions of me; I enter a room and they automatically cower in fear, regardless of how I dress," he said with a confident smirk.

"So you think if you came down to a meeting wearing a flamenco dress with a bowl of fruit on your head, you could still intimidate them?"

He turned away from the mirror. "I can't say I've ever pictured myself in such an outfit, but if you can provide me with one, I'd say I'd be willing to put this theory to the test."

"You're on," Rebekah said with a devilish grin. "I'll see what I can do about digging one up. And when you least expect it, we'll see just how tough you look when you're dressed like the Chiquita Banana lady."

"It's a bet," he said. "Now, if you'll leave me in peace, I've got some finishing touches to attend to."

"Going to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror?" Rebekah teased.

He made a face at her before walking over to the door and unceremoniously closing it in her face. He went over to his armoir, pulling open the lowest drawer on the right, extracting a large bottle of whiskey and taking a long pull straight from it. It did little to calm his knotted stomach.

In her apartment, Cami was also hoping that alcohol would help her feel less nervous. It didn't help that Davina couldn't show up anywhere on time. And that Cami was perpetually early to everything. The party was starting any minute now, and far from wanting to be on time, it still made her nervous as the minutes ticked by and there was still no knock on the door.

She and the witch hadn't been close in a while, not since she had broken Klaus's compulsion over Cami, the one where he'd told her to leave New Orleans because there was nothing for her here anymore. But her fear of showing up to the party alone outweighed the uncomfortable awkwardness she was sure to face when she spoke to Davina for the first time in a long while. It wasn't like Hayley was her friend, and it seemed like Elijah or Rebekah would only talk to her if they needed something from her. And so she was left with limited options in terms of who she would talk to at the party.

She left the kitchen, where she'd been consuming yet another beer (her fourth or fifth, maybe), and went into the bathroom to do one last makeup check. She had spent an hour and a half between her hair and her makeup, almost entirely unheard of for her except for the senior prom. She wanted to make sure she looked perfect. Nothing had moved out of place and nothing needed fixing or new application since the last time she checked, so she retreated once more to the kitchen.

There was a knock on the door, and Cami struggled to stand from the kitchen chair, the alcohol in her system and her high heels making a dangerous combination. She didn't usually wear them, but she reasoned that eventually the alcohol would numb her feet and make them stop hurting. Besides, she wanted to look…sexy, and this was the best way she knew to go about it.

When she opened the door, Davina immediately burst in, flinging her arms around Cami's neck in a sloppy hug. Cami could smell cinnamon whiskey emanating strongly from the witch's breath. For a moment, she wanted to chide the girl for underage drinking, but then she thought about all Davina had gone through since the last time they'd really spoken, and decided the girl deserved a break from reality, even if it only lasted for one night.

"Hi!" she said excitedly.

Cami smiled at her and took a step back, looking over the younger girl. Her thick brown waves were falling perfectly all around her shoulders, and she was wearing a black skater dress with black sequined sneakers. "You look so cute," Cami told her.

"You do too!" Davina said.

Cami pulled nervously at the hem of her form-hugging turquoise dress, hoping she really did look cute. It was so tight, she was afraid she had a pudge, or that at some point the hem would ride up too high and she would flash everyone her pink undies, or some other embarrassing mishap would befall her. "Let me just grab my purse," she said, dipping inside to pick her clutch up off the dresser in her room.

When she returned to the door, she eyed Davina sheepishly. "I feel like, for courtesy's sake, I should offer for you to come in or give you another drink or something, but it seems like you've kinda had enough already."

"Oh yeah," Davina said, closing her eyes and smiling. "I'm pacing myself until I get there."

There was a cab waiting for them when they got outside, ready to take them to the compound. The driver eyed them in her rearview mirror. "You girls look nice," she said. "Where to?"

Davina gave the address to the driver. And Cami flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled to herself. If she hadn't been so tipsy already, she would have been fidgety, reluctant to take the compliment. But she believed what the driver had said. _Yeah, I do look nice,_ she thought. _And cute._

As they pulled up to the compound, she could already hear the music pounding out an intense beat. People were coming in by the dozen, and she was sure the place was probably already bursting with more inside. Cami paid the cab driver, and she and Davina unsteadily exited the car. She took the witch's hand in hers. "Ready?" she asked. Davina nodded.

The ballroom of the compound had been cleared of its dustcloth-covered furniture and was replaced with a mass of dancing bodies, most of whom she didn't recognize. As they entered the throng, Cami spotted Klaus on the second floor, standing by the bannister, leaning on his elbows and watching the dance floor pulsate with music and alcohol. She watched him intently as he surveyed the room, swearing for a second that his eyes had locked with hers before continuing to scan.

Draining the glass of amber liquid in his hand, he made a strange hand gesture, apparently looking at the DJ, who slowly faded the roaring music into silence. "Thank you all for coming to my humble shindig," Klaus said, his voice projecting over the crowd. Everyone hushed so that they could hear, but most of them had supernatural hearing; only humans like Cami had to strain to hear him. "We are here to celebrate a momentary ceasefire in the chaos that we have now come to accept as our day-to-day routine. So let us commemorate this moment of peace with love, loud music, and libations." He raised his empty glass to the crowd, who immediately burst into cheers and applause as the music resumed. She could have sworn that he was looking right at her.

She studied him for a long moment as everyone returned to their dancing, looking over him. He didn't strike her as the "business casual attire" type, but he looked striking in his button up and blazer. _Sexy,_ she admitted to herself.

"Cami?" Davina broke her out of her trance. "Are you okay?"

Cami smiled. "Fine. Let's get another drink."

As she and the witch walked over to the bar area, Klaus watched her intently. She looked so beautiful under the glow of the shining colored lights that flashed across the dance floor. They glowed off her hair, her dangly earrings, the sheen of her lipgloss. He looked on as she downed a shot of vodka, smiling to himself as she winced when it burned down her throat.

Davina slipped her hand into Cami's and took her out onto the dance floor. Klaus watched her walk, noticing how long her legs looked in those high heels, the way that blue dress hugged her curves. Something warm flooded his chest and he felt his cheeks go red as he watched her begin to dance. She wasn't all that good, but he noticed the way she was losing herself in the music, her eyes closed, her hips rocking back and forth. He wanted to be dancing with her, dancing against her, behind her. He stayed where he was.

The alcohol was starting to hit Cami in a good sort of way. She knew if she had any more in the next half hour, she would probably get sick, but for now she was coherent and coordinated to keep upright and keep dancing. She closed her eyes and shook her hair out, laughing as Davina spun her around and she felt the room spin with her.

Conscious thoughts seemed to come and go like apparitions through Cami's head; one minute, she could clearly think about Klaus and how badly she wanted him to notice her, and the next she could barely even remember her own name.

Klaus felt as if she was entrancing him. As much as he didn't want to seem obvious, he could not look away from the way her body moved to the music, the way her hips swayed to the beat. Every now and then, he saw her steal glances up in his direction to see if he was watching. He couldn't look away.

 _He's definitely watching me,_ she realized. And she ruffled her hair once more, letting it fall all around her. She pulled Davina in close face to face, letting the witch dance up against her, their hands on each other's hips. She looked back up to the second floor to see Klaus watching her intently. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and ran along her upper lip.

As quickly as she had done that, Klaus felt his chest explode in a blaze of fire. If he didn't go down there and dance with her right then, he felt he might explode. For an immortal, her certainly felt like his life might end at any moment because of this woman. He stood back from the bannister and turned to go. His brain was tearing him in two conflicting directions, _Go down there and dance with her,_ and _Drink more so you don't think about her._

"Brother," Elijah said as he approached Klaus. Klaus was about to step around him, still unsure of what he was going to do, when Elijah placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. "I must speak with you."

"I'm afraid I have not ingested enough alcohol for a conversation with you."

"Then by all means, drink yourself into a stupor. But I will still have words with you, one way or another."

"Then let me amend my previous statement: I'm afraid I can never ingest enough alcohol to prepare me for a conversation with you, Elijah."

"This is not optional," Elijah said, his jaw set. And Klaus knew that when his brother intended to have a conversation with someone, there was pretty much no way around it. As much as he hated to tear his eyes away from Cami, it was perhaps for the best. Maybe if he could clear his head for a moment, spend a minute without watching her dance, he could see that he had to stay way from her.

Reluctantly, but somewhat relieved for the excuse to leave, he followed his brother into Klaus's room. "Sit," Elijah instructed, gesturing to a chair in the corner of the room. Klaus did what he was told, looking up at his brother with an expectant, facetious smile.

"I know that this is a long shot, but I would hate myself if I didn't try," Elijah said. "I want you to think about what you said in your toast. This is a very brief time of peace for us, for the city, and I'm sure another crisis involving one of us is just around the corner. So I want you to understand that even though conflicts between the factions and between outside forces have temporarily resolved, I still have a problem with you. And I feel that I cannot fully enjoy this bit of respite without confronting you about it in the hopes that it can be resolved."

"Ah yes, what has the terrible B*stard done now?" Klaus said.

"Gia."

He rolled his eyes. He knew this would come up again. Even though he had explained to Elijah that Gia had been collateral damage in order to save Hope from Dahlia, it seemed the concept had not sunk in to his brother's head. "I told you once before, Brother…" Klaus began.

"Yes, yes, it was all to save Hope. But that does not excuse your deplorable behavior. I cared for her."

Klaus let out a short, cruel laugh. "Don't be so transparent, Elijah, you know how it bores me. You didn't care for her, she was just a rebound from Hayley. She was a plaything to keep your mind off the woman you really love. Don't come at me as if I'm the villain when I saved Hayley's child, _my_ child."

"You have no right to say such harsh things to me. You are not me, you do not my thoughts or my feelings, you do not know that I did care for Gia. And you owe me apology for killing her."

"I didn't kill her, I compelled her to kill herself," Klaus corrected.

"It doesn't matter!" Elijah shouted. He lunged for his brother, grabbing him by the shirt collar and leaning in so they were almost nose to nose. "It doesn't matter! You're still responsible! And it doesn't matter if the day was saved by your actions in the end because you still took something away from me. Someone important."

Klaus sat back in surprise as Elijah released his grip on his collar. Not many things could make his brother lose his temper like this. "I…I'm sorry," Klaus said finally. "I'm sorry, brother."

Elijah stared down at the floor, obviously willing himself not to cry. "I'm sorry," Klaus repeated.

His brother looked around the room, refusing to meet his eyes. Finally, he said, "Yes…well…" and quickly turned around and left. He clearly hadn't been expecting Klaus to give him the apology at all, let alone as quickly as he had. Maybe Klaus had apologized so easily because he was fairly drunk, he wasn't sure, but a weight within him felt lifted ever so slightly. He sat there for a long moment before getting up to pour himself another glass of whiskey.

Back out on the dance floor, Cami had only just noticed that he was gone. Her eyes had been closed for a while, and when they opened they were mostly focused on dancing with Davina. Eventually, the witch found a young werewolf who asked her to dance, and barely a minute later, Cami looked over to find them furiously making out.

At this point, Cami was drunk enough that she didn't mind dancing by herself. She imagined that Klaus was dancing with her, pressed up against her back, his hands on her hips. She could practically feel his breath cascading along her neck, brushing her hair to the side, his lips pressing against her ear to tell her how beautiful she looked. Her eyes closed and all the color drained from her face except for two bright red circles that remained in her cheeks.

Every minute or so she would look up to the second floor balcony in the hopes that he had returned. When she saw that the spot he had previously occupied remained vacated, she scanned the dance floor, wishing that she would find him right behind her, asking her to dance with him. And when that search came up empty, and Klaus was still nowhere to be seen, she could not help but be crestfallen.

After half an hour of fruitless searching, the disappointment started to press in on her in tandem with the alcohol. She felt as if she might pass out soon if she didn't leave now.

She went over to Davina, who was still locking lips with the wolf, and poked her on the shoulder. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I'm gonna go," she said. "Do you want to come with, or are you good?"

Davina glanced quickly between Cami and the werewolf before saying, "I'm good." She quickly resumed her make out session and Cami shrugged, turning to go.

Up in his room Klaus, was pacing anxiously, wanting desperately to return to the party but fearing what would happen if he did. If he did, he might not be able to control himself. He might go directly downstairs and scoop her up in his arms and kiss her before he could stop himself, and he couldn't do that. Because if he did that, there was no going back, there was no denying that he had feelings for this human girl, a creature so susceptible to death. And Klaus knew from experience that anything so prone to dying was likely to do so, one way or another, especially if that thing was involved with him. He couldn't let that happen.

So he stayed holed up in his room, pacing, drinking more, telling himself all the reasons why he was better off up here by himself than down there with her. _She's probably found somebody else to dance with anyway,_ he reasoned. _She is probably already kissing him._

But as the music played on, he could not help but picture how she was moving, how her hips had swayed to the beat, how she'd run her hands through her hair. He closed his eyes to try to block it out, but the memory played across the blackness behind his eyelids. And the more he tried to get the images to go away, the more persistently they stayed, getting stronger and more vivid by the moment.

Klaus set his jaw. _Just one dance, just to get it out of my system,_ he thought. Just one dance wasn't going to hurt anybody. As he left his room and walked downstairs, he gave himself a pep talk. _I am calm, I am in control, I can handle myself. Just one dance. Just one dance. I can do this. I am in control._

He walked through the crowd of dancing bodies, searching for her. When he got to where Davina was tongue kissing a werewolf, he scanned the area, not finding her. He strained his ears in case he could hear her voice, but came up with nothing. Sheepishly he tapped on Davina's shoulder. "Pardon the interruption, love, but have you seen Camille?"

"She just left," Davina said, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Thank you."

Using his vamp speed, he cut through the crowd, leaving through the front door, slowing down only when he hit the street in case there were humans about who weren't in-the-know.

Cami was stumbling along the street, trying to call for a cab to get back to her apartment. She kept trying to dial the number but for some reason, her fingers weren't working so well. She spotted one of those rickshaw bike things a little ways up the road, and was getting ready to power walk over there in the hopes of flagging him down when she felt herself hurtling towards the grown. Her ankle had wobbled in those accursed heels, causing her to trip.

She hit the sidewalk, landing on her knees and stopping herself from falling completely on her face by putting out her hands. The shock of the fall hurt more than actually hitting the pavement, and it took her a moment to register that she had really fallen. She rolled off her knees so she was sitting on her bottom on the curb of the sidewalk, examining the damage. Her palms seemed alright, a little scuffed, but nothing major.

Her left knee, on the other hand, looked a little worse for the wear. Her tights had torn, and a long trickle of blood was slowly running down her knee. Cami swore under her breath.

When he saw her go down, his automatic reaction was to vamp speed over to her and catch her before she even hit the ground. But he kept himself in check, reminding himself that the street was crowded with people who were blissfully unaware of the existence of creatures other than humans. To his dismay, none of these people stopped to help her or even ask if she was okay.

He ran with human speed over to her, kneeling down in front of her. Her eyes widened when she noticed him before her; she hadn't even known that he was following her. "Are you alright, love?"

"Fine, just fine," she slurred. Even in her drunken state, her sarcasm was unmistakable.

She took her forefinger and began to wipe away the thin line of blood that had begun to flow from the wound on her knee down along her calf. His eyes followed her movement, mesmerized, not because of the blood but because of the smoothness of her skin exposed by the tear in her tights.

The shock of the fall seemed to have sobered her up a little bit, and being scared by seeing her fall had apparently had the same affect on him. "Are you going to help me up?" she said, breaking his concentration on the skin of her knee. She extended her hand expectantly as he stood, helping her stand as well.

He kept a hold on her hand, draping her arm around her should and wrapping his arm around her side. Even though it was mostly to support her still-unsteady walking, he could not help but flush as the excitement of getting to hold her.

After a moment, she tried to push out of his grasp. He held fast, but she insisted, feebly pressing both hands into his sides in an attempt to shove him away. "I can do it myself," she said, her voice stern even as her words continued to be slurred. Reluctantly, he let her go. It made him nervous to watch her toddle away but he always admired her tenacity and independence.

A few strides away, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and bent down, fiddling with her shoes. She stepped out of them, collecting them in her hands. "The streets are filthy," he said as she strode away from him with much more grace and ease, now completely barefoot.

"I'll take a shower," she said. She stopped walking and turned on her heel, handing the shoes to him. "Here. You wanna help? Carry these."

He stood there stunned, holding her shoes as she literally skipped up the sidewalk, flagging down the bike/rickshaw contraption that was at the end of the street. She motioned for him to go over there, and then made the motion in a more frenzied manner when he seemed to be taking too long about it.

Together, they climbed in to the seat of the rickshaw, a cramped fit so that their legs were touching. She was still barefoot and he was still holding her shoes. He looked down at her left knee, the way the injured part was just barely touching the fabric of his slacks. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She didn't answer, she just looked at him and smiled.

The driver biked down the New Orleans streets, mostly empty now that they were moving away from the compound and most of the bars were closed at this time of night. Cami closed her eyes, loving the way the cool night air felt on her face. He watched her with amazement.

They didn't talk for the rest of the ride. Halfway back to her apartment, she slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. She had always wanted to do that, hold his hand, be out together and have some sort of physical contact that verified that yes, she did like him and yes, he did like her back.

Surprisingly, he didn't move away or hide his hand in his pocket. Normally he would have, but the alcohol was still fogging his brain slightly. And he liked the way her palm felt against his, so warm and small.

When they pulled up at her place, he paid the rickshaw driver and helped her out of the cab. He handed her shoes back to her with what he hoped would be an indicator of finality. His inhibitions may have been diminished because of the liquor, but he still had some grip on self control. Letting her hold his hand was one thing, coming up with her was something he wouldn't allow himself to do.

"Aren't you going to walk me up?" she asked.

Automatically he followed behind her as she walked up the front stoop to her building. _Idiot,_ he thought to himself. _It's not too late to turn around. You don't have to go up with her._ Just as he was about to say something, make up some excuse of why he had to leave, she took his hand and led him into the building and up the stairs.

She fumbled with the key of her apartment, a combination of the alcohol and nerves taking over her motor skills. Finally she got the door open and, taking his hand again, took him inside.

"Do you want tea or anything?" she asked.

"No, thank you," Klaus said. She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and when she reemerged she was wearing a tank top and a pair of jean shorts. She was clutching a handful of first aid supplies in her arms, and carried them into her room, setting them on her nightstand and sitting down on the bed.

Pouring alcohol onto a gauze pad, she tenderly dabbed it against the scrape on her knee, wincing with every touch. He walked over to her. "Let me," he said, kneeling down in front of her, gently pressing the gauze to the wound for a moment before removing it, using it to wipe up the dried blood that had trickled down her leg.

When she was cleaned up, he opened a bandage and placed it over the injury, smoothing it over the skin to make sure it was going to stick. "Thank you," she murmured. He was staring up at her.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, remaining close to her as he stood. When they were face to face, his breath caught in his throat, and he moved in closer in spite of himself. Instinctively, she reached out, cupping his face in her hands, and he knew he wasn't the only one thinking about kissing. "You're drunk," he said quietly.

"So what?"

"So it wouldn't be right."

She pouted and he grinned because she was so cute when she wasn't getting her way. "What if we wait until we're not drunk?" she said.

"What do you suggest?"

"You stay here. On the floor," she added quickly. "And in the morning I get to kiss you."

"Guessing by the state of you, you might very well still be drunk in the morning," Klaus said.

"That's a chance you'll just have to take," Cami said. "Promise?"

He looked at her uneasily, but she extended her hand for him to shake on the deal.

Klaus awoke to the sound of her agonized groan. "Jesus. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, all the other saints," she said groggily. She was rolling over in bed, shielding her eyes from the bright morning light, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It said it was 9:45.

"You're not a very good Catholic girl," he joked.

"Stop talking," she groaned. She had a hangover of epic proportions. Her head felt as if it might literally crack in half, her stomach was simultaneously growling with hunger and roiling with nausea.

Cami rolled over so she could see over the edge of the bed to where he was laying on his back on the floor. "I feel like I'm going to die," she said quietly.

He sat up, stretching, and picked up his blazer, pulling it on before standing up. He headed into the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet before he found two aspirin, bringing them to her with a full glass of water that he'd procured from the kitchen. He deposited the pills in her hand and set the water on the nightstand.

As she sat up slowly in bed so she could take the pills, he turned on his heel to go. "Wait," she said. He cringed; he'd hoped she'd forgotten about the promise he'd made to her last night. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He turned back around, a fake nonchalant smile on his face. "What's that, love?"

"We made an agreement last night," she said matter-of-factly. "And I know we probably both have terrible morning breath, and I don't know about you, but my brain feels as if it might leak out my ears, and I'm sure my makeup is smudged all over my face. But a promise is a promise."

His smile faltered. He tried to come up with an excuse, any excuse, just to get himself out of it. But nothing was coming to mind, and he was sure that even if he could come up with something, she would have a perfectly valid counter argument. She always did.

He came closer to her, feeling his stomach tighten as he entered her space. He suddenly felt self conscious about everything. He was sure she was right and that he had awful morning breath, and that also his hair was a mess and that he could use a fresh spritz of cologne. But she was right, a promise was a promise, and he was reluctant to break an agreement when he made one with someone. Besides, he didn't even want to break this one, not really. He was just too scared to go through with it.

Just like last night, Cami reached up to cup his face in her hands, her fingertips playing with his curls. _No escaping now,_ he thought, even though he knew that was ludicrous. It would be laughably simple for him to extract himself from her grip; he just didn't want to.

The closer he got to her, the more he had to will himself not to move away. Not to run away. His stomach was in knots, everything moving around in there like someone had poured hot lava down his throat. And then something inside him told him, _Just go on and do it._

Klaus leaned the rest of the way in, catching her bottom lip between his. He kissed her like he had always wanted to, his fingers wrapped up in the blonde silk of her hair. His tongue ran across her upper lip, along the same path her own had taken when she'd been watching him watch her while she'd danced last night.

She kissed him back, memorizing the feeling of his lips against hers, how amazing it felt to have the short stubble of his facial hair move against the skin of her face. Her eyes closed when she felt him take her lower lip into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing it. Her fingers moved around to the back of his head and closed up in his curls, holding him to her.

His head was swimming in a way that scared him. He felt like he couldn't breathe, but he also felt that he hadn't ever been able to properly breathe until he kissed her. Now his breathing was filled with the scent of her skin, the smell of her perfume and her shampoo. And he knew he never wanted to breathe without the scent of her burning into his nostrils.

He pulled back and looked at her, noticed the beautiful light in her eyes, the excitement. He placed a single kiss high on her cheekbone, almost on the outer corner of her eye. And then he vanished.

Klaus didn't know where to go from here. If he went back to the compound, he was sure Elijah or Rebekah would give him a hard time or tease him, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to hide what had just happened. He needed to drive, to get out in the country to have time to think. Because he knew that kiss had been something special, and that scared him worse than anything in the world.


End file.
